


Happy to serve

by DoraTLG



Category: James Bond - Fandom, Skyfall - Fandom
Genre: Alternative universe - police, M/M, Prostitution, and in fact a love story, inspired by a tumblr post, looots of sex, rentboy!Q
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-01
Updated: 2014-09-22
Packaged: 2018-02-15 15:47:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2234580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoraTLG/pseuds/DoraTLG
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James Bond sometimes HATES his job. There is no dignity in having sex with whores. He didn't sign up for this. But undercover is undercover and sometimes it can be even fun.</p><p>Q hates his job ALL THE TIME. Fuck this weather and fuck his pimp and fuck his life. And, of course, fuck him, because that's the point, right? And more than anything he hates his boss and what that fucker makes him do "for England."</p><p>Fuck England.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [竭誠為您服務](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3788398) by [danacathsu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/danacathsu/pseuds/danacathsu)



> SPOILERS! But I think they're great :D this is inspired by a post that made my eyes pop out and added hope to my life. I just love it :D
> 
> http://doratonkslupingaunt.tumblr.com/post/96221837513/superlockedinthephandom
> 
> So happy to be doing this. Enjoy!

It was maddeningly cold this time of a year. Mild drizzle was covering Q's face and freezing there, and his hands burned from the cold. He tried to warm them up a little, but one can do only so much with the clothing he was issued - thin leather trousers and a V-neck t-shirt clinging to his slim frame. He would give the world for a coat, or a customer, he was that desperate - but the town was dead. Not even a white walker would stop by him now. Fuck England.

So he kept freezing. Sometimes he just debated calling it a day - well, a night - and leave for his rubbish apartment, but then he remembered. He was poor. Poor people freeze and stick needles into their arms and fuck their lives up from time to time. At least that's what he's been told. On several occasions. By several people. That handed him needles and sent him on the street.

Maybe if he just moved into a more frequented part of the city... oh, to hell with it, so he'll get beaten by others, he had worse. He started walking west when a sudden sound surprised him - he turned and saw a car heading his way, screen wipers lazily cleaning the front window, lights on medium. The car stopped by him and the window lowered down.

"Got any change?" a deep voice asked. Q walked to the car and leaned against the door with his hip.  
"Depends," he said. "Got any bills?"

He could see the stranger's face in the back mirror - the man smiled knowingly.

"Why don't you get into the car so we can discuss it? You must be freezing."

Q circled the car, thinking that this charade was absolutely unnecessary, since there was no one around to hear them, and got to the car - BMW, he noticed, and a nice one - right next to his client. The heat hit him like a wave of hellish fire, he never thought comfort could hurt so much. The seat was made of leather and his arse squeaked on it as he sat down and closed the door.

The man was old, that was the first thing he registered through the back mirror, but now, he must have admitted the first impression wasn't quite right. The man wasn't young. Yes, that was better. He looked like someone with a past, all wrinkly and rough eyed, but it added his face a character and when he looked at Q for the first time, eyeing him like a merchandise, he saw the most blue eyes there could be.

"What's your name?" the man asked.

"Q."

"That's all?"

"That's all."

"I'm James."

"Hi, James," Q leaned in his seat and placed a cold hand on James' thigh. James eyed him again, but said nothing and started the engine.

They rode for several minutes and Q debated placing his hand right on the driver's crotch, but then decided to wait, so he just rubbed small circles on the denim. He could feel muscles and something in him purred. Not every day had he the luck to find a good looking mark. And this one was spectacular, he had to admit with every minute he studied him. Yes, first impression was absolutely wrong. Not an old man. A very worn out sex god.

Well, he hoped he'll be a sex god. It would be a great disappointment if James had a small cock and no finesse.

They parked the car at an underground car park attached to a modern building with several flats by the looks of it. James waited for Q to step out first, then rose from his seat, slam the door and lock it with an echoing beep. Their steps were loud in the closed concrete space as they walked to the elevator.

Q didn't say a word. He learned that it was much easier if the customer asked first and a lot less complicated. There was no need for a small talk and the idea of it just made these men nervous. Better not to scare them off - although this one seemed not even a bomb would make him more than twitch. Q was beginning to like him.

"Do you have a brand?" James asked and Q almost threw up. Brand. Like he's a fucking jacket.

"Serenity."

James nodded and seemed pleased. Or Q just made that up. But something about his eyes changed for a millisecond and he was always good at expressions.

Q waited for another question - maybe how much, or what is he willing to do, or how clean is he, but nothing came, so he just stared ahead. The elevator doors opened and he followed the slightly taller man to a flat at the end of the hall. Inside, it looked nice - whoever arranged it here had taste. It looked like something a hired staff would do. It smelled like money. Not much and not too luxury, just... nice. Q should've been amazed, but he just looked around and let himself be pulled into the bedroom.

"If you had anyone before me, there is the bathroom," James pointed at a thin door next to a cupboard with some statues on it. "Or if you just want a warm shower after the cold."

"I'm fine," Q said and stepped closer to him. Under an unzipped brown leather jacket he could see toned chest and he really started to like the idea of having sex with this man. He pulled a stash of condoms from the tight pocket of his trousers, but James scowled.

"I don't trust those," he said. "Have my own. Undress."

Q pocketed the condoms and pulled his wet tee shirt over his messy head. James sat down on the bed and watched him with cold face. Q was aware of the fact that his build was nothing compared to him, but he also knew this was what men wanted when they stopped by him. He was slender, lean, and pale, but he long ago stopped worrying about that. What mattered was his arse and his mouth and sometimes his hair, because everyone loved to pull the hair of a whore. He unzipped his fly and slowly pushed down his trousers, and had to do it very carefully so he didn't look like a snake trying to peel off his skin. Once he was naked, he straightened up and looked at James.

There was something very appealing about his appearance, James had to admit that. Pale body with curly hair where it most mattered - his head (James' fingers itched with the want to touch and pull), a beautiful path of hair trailing from his belly button to his crotch, burying yet passive cock. He was attractive. Attractive enough for James to be glad he picked him.

He beckoned him with one finger and when the boy came to him, he used that hand to pull him on the bed so his cold legs straddled him. Maybe that shower was in order after all, but it was too late now. It's just a shag. The only place that must be warm is his arse.

Acting against his common sense was his nature, so right after thinking of this boy as a mere slut, he pulled him closer and kissed him. Maybe it was because his lips were so red, full of blood after hours of white cold, or he just wanted to taste what he's buying, but it was worth it. He caught the whore off guard and kissing someone who fucks for money and knowing it's rare, that was the feeling of the century.

Q didn't stop him, but when they parted, he dryly said: "That is against the rules."

"Yes," said James. "I don't care."

He kissed him again, this time more roughly, and then pushed him to the mattress so he could stand up and undress. Q watched him with interest and he could swear the boy liked what he sees - that was good, he hated when they didn't even like men. Then it truly felt like rape. This could be even regretless after they finish, which was a rare case.

When naked, he walked to a night stand and pulled out condoms and lube from the drawer. He threw them on the mattress next to Q and climbed to him.

"Want me to help?" asked Q, pointedly looking at James' flaccid cock. He considered for a moment and then decided to allow him. If this one wanted to give him a blowjob, that was just good. His policy of quick fuck could be shut for tonight.

And he must've admitted that this was something the boy WAS skilled in. Soon his cock was twice as big and Q had to work really hard to swallow him down. James buried his fingers in those rich locks and guided his head before pulling him off completely and dragging him up so they both knelt. He looked at the state of Q's cock and was pleased when he saw it wasn't that uninterested anymore. He took the lube, squirted some into his palm and started to jerk his whore off.

Q closed his eyes and surrounded to the feeling of a strong hand on his cock. He didn't feel this good for a long time. There was warm in this flat and warm inside his stomach and now warm around his shaft and for a little while he was happy to serve. So he quickly opened his eyes and began licking at every lean muscle of James' chest he could reach. He shuffled a bit closer to the man so their bodies almost fitted together, and explored his body, writhing like a cat. Their cocks aligned and it made them both take in a sharp breath. James palmed them both and Q saw stars.

It didn't last long, though. James pushed him on the mattress a bit too soon for his liking and tossed him the lube.

"Prepare yourself. I want to see it."

Q gladly poured some lube on his fingers and spread his legs. He was at the same time proud of how he managed to keep his hole tight and at the fact that it lasted just a few moments to open himself up. He really wanted to feel this cock inside him and just the fact that it was big enough to cause him real soreness with other customers kept him from rushing. He closed his eyes again, lied down and bowed his back because he knew James would like that, and worked himself open with little sighs. He could feel his heavy cock leaking on his belly and the feeling was glorious. One that he almost never had with his clients.

"Stop," James rumbled when he was four fingers in and he squirmed, but pulled them out. He opened his eyes to see James rolling on of the condoms on and slicking himself with more lube.

"Can I ride you?" Q suddenly asked. He wanted to show James just what he could do with his arse, give him a show he never wanted to reveal. James eyed him again with that passive look that was driving Q crazy because he couldn't find out what it meant, and nodded. They changed positions - James sat so that the headboard was pressed against his back and Q straddled him. He slowly let himself be impaled and had to bite his lip.

He rode him, first slowly, contracting his rectal muscles, enjoying the fullness, then sped up when he felt James breathing more hollowly. James was a closed book but Q started to read him none the less, every breath, every twitch of muscles. He kissed him and was kissed back. After some time he could tell the man was close and he let him fuck into him hard and fast, meeting every thrust, almost not realising the strong hands that were bruising his hips. He himself was close, those few times James found his prostate was enough to take him to the edge. Now he gripped his cock and thrust into it with every move that milked James's cock inside him. He could tell James was coming - he opened his mouth in a soundless cry and held him tighter, never slowing his thrusts. Q relished in the sight and spent himself on his client's chest and stomach.

Fuck," James said when it was over and he let Q fall into the sheets. He disposed of the condom and threw it into the bin few meters away - hitting it with a perfect aim. Q let his seated, perverse part - the one he was gladly feeding just to help him live through his work - to take the better of him and started to lick James' chest and his own cum. James was a bit taken aback, but then he just chuckled and let him.

"You can stay, if you want," he said after a while. Q thought it over and then decided it was a good idea. He was so comfortable that the idea of going out scared him. Here he could sleep and then take quite a sum from this rich stranger. He could tell that by the way James never asked for the price. So he nodded and curled against James' side. He could feel the condoms poking to his calve, but it wasn't nearly enough to get him to move. For the first time, being a slut wasn't that bad.


	2. Chapter 2

Q woke up alone in a big bed. It lasted him few moments to realize where he is and when he did, he sat up and searched the room for James. The room was empty and dark, but that would be because of a lack of windows, so he couldn't guess the time.

He dressed into his old clothes and went into the bathroom. He can do all the sanitary things at home, so he just splashed some water on his face and neck and dried it off before heading out of the bedroom and into the living room. Now he could see the flat was actually pretty bright, with big windows and not much furniture. It lead to the front door on one opposite site and an open kitchen on the other. There, at a tall bar table, James was eating his cereal. Q hesitantly crossed the living room.

"If you want to eat, there's some in the cupboard and milk is in the fridge," James said, not even looking at him. Q stood in front of the table awkwardly, not knowing what to do.

"I don't... really need that," he said.

"You don't need food for survival? Lucky you."

"I meant... you know... that I'm just a whore."

It was a question, in some way. James finally looked at him, those blue eyes calculating.

"If it's more comfortable for you, I could just pay you and send you off."

Q blinked and his breathing eased a little.

"Yes, that would be better."

James nodded, put his spoon down and reached to his back pocket to pull out a wallet.

"How much?"

"Eh..." Q really didn't think about that. Should he charge him for everything they've done? For the time? That would be unfair... he didn't really want to be paid for the last night since it was almost as a personal one night stand, but he had to. This was his job. And from that point of view, James looked like someone who could afford him for more than he normally charged.

"A hundred."

James just pullet some bills out and handed them to him. Q pocketed them next to the condoms.

"Thanks. I'll go."

And he turned to the door.

"Wait," James stopped him. "I want you again. Do you have a phone number? Or your pimp?"

Q debated giving him his own number, but that was too dangerous, and he had no phone attached to this job, so he just gave him his pimp's number and James wrote it down on a stick note on his fridge.

"Mr. Tent," Q said.

"Serenity, do I remember correctly?" James looked at him one last time and Q nodded and finally left.

Out, he could think clearly again. This was absolutely fucked up. He had many clients since he's been doing this, but none was so nice to him. NONE. As in NONE. Well, there has to be a first time for everything, it just seemed weird that he would be a call girl to someone like this. This man could have men without paying them. He didn't like that idea.

Third floor, door seven, name tag James Bond. He remembered it all and went looking for a cab, since he had no phone on himself.

 

His flat was really rubish. He spent almost no time here at all, only slept here throughout the day, and he had no maid to clean or water his plants, so every attempt for life under his windows died. Literally, he even had a hamster. He forgot about it until it started to stink.

He let the cab drive him out by a pizzeria near his building and now tossed the pizza on a small table in the living room. He should at least hoover a bit. Maybe later. He almost wanted to find his phone and call his boss to add a new name to the database, but something stopped him. Well, not something, he knew exactly what it was - he didn't want to sell out his new client. James was too good. James had to have a reason for doing illegal things. James could have sex with him again.

Well, of course those where teen girl's thoughts, he had to admit that. He really SHOULD inform detective inspector. But he won't. Because sometimes there is a point in not listening to orders.

After he ate, he found his phone and dialed. This was one risk he should never undertake, but if he didn't he would go mad after first two months. He was undercover. He should never contact his real life. But living all alone for now almost a year was so excruciating and plus that job - for christssake, he was a fuck toy, how could someone live that life without any distraction?

"Hi, Danny, what do you say to a nice lunch at the shooting range?" he asked to the phone.

"Jesus, Mike, what the fuck...?! I haven't heard you in months!"

"Yeah, I know. Do you want to shoot or not?"

"Yeah, right... just... when can you be here? Are you here already? I've got to tell Kimmel..."

"Are you crazy? Don't tell him anything, he'll bite my head off if nothing worse, I'm bloody undercover. Just be at the range in half an hour. Make something up or just disappear. He won't fire you, he likes you."

After he hung up he went to a closet in his bedroom and pulled out his double holster. The guns were in a safe in living room and bullets, because of the lack of rooms, in the kitchen. He called another cab, changed clothes and in twenty four minutes stood in front of the shooting range right next to the building of his old department. He felt weird anytime he went there. His stomach always filled with this feeling of... desire to set the whole place on fire. Those fuckers made him a prostitute. He didn't even care about some fucking Protect and serve, he wanted to finish the bloody job, take his pension and go live in Iceland. Not even volcanos bothered him anymore.

Danny waited for him in one of the boots. He was a great man - almost thirty five, brown hair, happy grey eyes and a smile Q - Michael - would fall in love with any day. But Danny had a wife, so he tried not to. They were colleagues for few years before they had to part BECAUSE FUCK THIS SYSTEM and Q still missed him. OK, so he DID fall in love with his smile. Danny was worth his attraction.

"Fuck, it's good to see you, mate," he hugged Q tightly and patted his back. "You're too thin, man! Where are your muscles?"

They stepped away and Q couldn't help but widely smile. "Well, you know, hard times. Don't really have time to eat and lift. But you look good, man! Still have a wife?"

Danny laughed. "Still. She would like to see you. You're the only guy that flirts with me instead of her."

"I hope I will be able to come to dinner again sometime. The only dinner I've eaten since my last shift was pizza and take away. And there is only so many times you can order from the same place."

"I'll send you some homemade stuff. And a cake. Stella will be thrilled to cook."

"Thanks, man. I love you."

"Fuck off."

They laughed and then they were shooting and for an hour Q could forget all about the last year.

"Look, man..." Daniel started when they were walking out of the building. "It sucks. It fucking sucks. I just... I hope you're OK."

Q told him about the character of the cover after four months and second meeting. Daniel was the best friend he could imagine. Danny understood. He knew Q was gay and that he had a bad knee and his gold fish Fishy died when he was seven. And now he knew what Q was able to do for his job and he was mortified. It was really, REALLY hard not to love Danny too much.

"I know," Q said. "And trust me, this is the worst I've ever done in my life. I fucking hate it. But I'm close, Danny, I'm so close I can feel it and when this ends, someone will get hell. And you know that special someone. I will end him."

Danny nodded seriously. "You do that. No one will miss him."

They said their goodbyes and Q went to his flat again. He had just a few hours before he had to go to the warehouse where they met every night. Serenity - such a pretty name for such a scum. Their pimp slash dealer slash illdoanythingormoney Tent thought of himself very highly and Q had to laugh when he remembered who he reminded him of - Firefly's Badger played by Mark Sheppard. But Tent wasn't nearly as charming. Tent was really a pimp.

But Tent was more than just a local player. He had long fingers and it wasn't that he would lead anything big, but he was that one bug you could easily step on and had connections with those big ones that could eat the whole city. The only reason why Q stayed for this long was that he had to collect the names of EVERYONE involved and that was hard. Meanwhile he just sent Kimmel names of every guy that paid for him. Dull.

It wasn't that he didn't like sex. He did - in fact, he could be a real slut if he felt like it. But not all the time. Not with guys he couldn't pick himself. Not with old, fat blokes that couldn't find a date that would go with them without paying. It just felt sick.

And the waiting. Cold, hot, rain, snow, any weather, he had to stand at corners. Few times he was arrested and he loved those moments, because he could take few weeks off and play it like he was in jail and too scared to come back, but then he had no money so he had to... blahblahblah. He should ask Danny to arrest him.

The meeting was almost over - they got the basic instructions, who stands where, collected the money they made the day before - when Tent called him into his office. Q closed the door behind and Tent sat down behind his desk.

"We had a call," he said and Q didn't try to hide his surprise. Call - was it James? Already? No, it couldn't be.

"Some mister called Bond was asking 'bout you. I promised him you will come today. He said you know where he lives. Charge him a hundred, boy, this is a good opportunity. After some time you can raise it. Go now, he sure is waitin' for your pussy," the man laughed perversely and Q almost threw up. How sophisticated.

When he left the warehouse, his thought went to James. Already? Was he mad? A nymphomaniac? If he wanted to have him every night, he had to be more than rich. He had to be a complete idiot.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not adding yesterday, I worked on another project and forgot about this one. But it's here! A bit boring, I guess, and I got sidetracked while watching Firefly, but... well, anyway, enjoy :)

James' day was quite boring. He watched the TV. He ate. Watched the TV again. Went jogging. Watched the TV. Went jogging again. Read a book. Jerked off. Checked what month it is. Debated jerking off again, but instead ate. Weighed himself. Forbade himself from eating again. Ever.

The same old routine.

He's been doing this for two months now. His life was boring enough when he was at the station, now it reached the point of self-destruction. What did people do when they had their days off? Before, he was glad to have a free Sunday from time, he could drink and have sex with pick ups from bar and sleep. Now it felt like a punishment. Too much of a good thing.

He called the number Q gave him, because he felt like shit and wanted this mission to end. Just find the pimp. Persuade him into cooperating with the police. But first, persuade the whore to cooperate with the police. So tedious. So slow. So fucking boring.

Back in his day, everything was easier. He would just find the pimp, smash his head against the desk, steal his documents and get the fuck out. But this was the poliiiiice, he ironized in his head. They do things the PROPER way. James hated them.

He was so much happier in the special forces. It was a dangerous life, but one he chose and was good at. But then he got shot - well, he got shot several times in his career, but this one was as special as it gets, tearing his guts apart and making him unusable for the future. And he was old. Forty three is no age for a soldier. He had to go.

So after they patched him and he wasn't shitting into his own abdomen anymore, he was given a good paid position in Scotland yard. He felt like a grown up at a children's playground. He didn't even have a gun.

Well, he did, but that was a secret.

So they gave him this job and hoped he could be useful, since he never filled out paperwork and tended to be too violent with suspects. This way he could sex himself to a pension! Oh the happiness. From his first retirement check he will buy a new gun and shoot himself in the head.

He showered around midnight - because there was no other reason before - and waited for Q to show up. He liked the boy and he liked the sex. Maybe it could lighten up his mood a little. Or fuck him up even more, who knows.

The bell rang so he buzzed the newcomer in and in a minute there was a knock on his door. He opened it and found the boy. He was wearing a black net tee shirt through which he could see his nipples, and denim jeans. His eyes were lined with an eyeliner, which made him look even younger. James guessed him about twenty five years.

"Hi," Q said and licked his lips. James nodded and let him in. He thought about his strategy before and decided to play a fooled old man in love with a whore, so the moment the door closed, he pulled him by the net and pushed him up a wall.

His kiss tasted the same as before, but colder, without the luxury of the car that got him here last night. James snogged him passionately and when they parted, their lips were swollen and red.

"I should charge you for that," said Q between breaths. James kissed him again and this time he bit him. Q whimpered, but let him take what he wants.

James fucked him by that wall and again on the couch a few minutes later. Then he took him to the bedroom and ordered him to stay naked.

"I want you here all night," he said. "And every night you work. You don't have to tell that to your boss, I will pay you enough. I want you for myself. Understood?"

Q nodded. He felt tired, after two rounds of fairly good sex and the whole day. If James would let him sleep for a moment, that would be perfect. And stay here all night... better than to go back on street. Much better.

"Go wash and to the bed. And when you come again, wear something normal. If you own anything like that."

He nodded again. That could be nice, too. Wear something normal... maybe his tee shirts, those old ones that always stink like a gunpowder...

Oh, he IS tired. He can't wear that sort of a clothing to a client! No whore smells like gunpowder. He quickly went to the bathroom to fresh himself up with cold water and to scrub the eyeliner from his face. He thought about the shower, but didn't know if James would allow him to use it without a permission so he just went to bed.

James was a strange guy. He wasn't very friendly, in fact he seemed cold, but something about him shouted CRAZY ABOUT YOU. That was nice. No one was ever crazy about him. But he knew it's the whore James likes, whatever reason was that for, and not him. And he just made his life lot easier. Every night, one very good looking guy, good at sex, with a nice apartment, warm bed and offers to breakfast with him. Something about it seemed off, but he was too damn tired to figure that out just yet. Maybe in the morning.

 

He woke up slowly, step by step noticing a pleasant sensation in lower parts. It took him a while to realize that the reason was a hand on his cock, that the mentioned cock is rock hard and that there is a firm body pressed to his back and even firmer cock pressed to his arse.

"Good morning," James purred into his ear when he saw his eyes open. Q hummed back and wanted to turn, but James stopped him. He was slowly jerking him off, his palm slick from precome, tip of his cock sliding through the crack of Q's arse, and Q desperately wanted to do more than just lie there and take it. He wanted to touch James so much, feel every muscle - he was getting addicted to the man. That was more than dangerous, but right now, the only thing he could think about was the way James' biceps were pressing to his ribs and how strong that guy must be and that that's fucking HOT.

So he hid behind his status and begged.

"Please... James, I want to..." he couldn't continue. What DID he want? Besides more contact and more initiative?

"What?" asked James with a smirk in his tone and his hand slowed down a little.

"I want to suck you off," he decided.

"Why?"

Q made a frustrated sound.

"Because I want to!"

"Wasn't it me who was paying you?" asked James mocking thoughtfully.

"You're paying me to do a job," said Q with hope. James laughed, but eased his grasp. Q happily turned and started kissing James' chest. His skin was clean and tasteless, that meant he just took a shower. He kissed the path to his crotch and happily swallowed him down.

He could listen to James' moans for few more minutes until he came down his throat. Coughing, Q lay beside him, painfully hard, and met those sky blue eyes, sated and satisfied. His hand moved to his crotch, but James stopped him.

"Don't," he said. Q waited with happy curiosity, what will be his reward, but James just smiled that way only he did, like there was a joke only he knew.

"Why?" Q asked at least, his tone a little betrayed and very disappointed.

"You wanted to get me what I'm paying you for. I'm not paying you for YOUR orgasms, am I now? So... maybe, if you convince me, I'll let you bring yourself off."

Q sighed frustrated and writhed in the sheets.

"What do I have to do?" he asked. James leaned to him and whispered:

"Pretty please."

Q knew how to do this. He's done it a million times before. He shifted and moved to him until his lips were just a few centimetres from James', and he breathed into his mouth.

"Please," he whispered. "Please, I beg you, please, let me come. Let me fuck my palm until I shoot all over myself, please, please, James, please..."

James' eyes got a bit unfocused, but he didn't said anything.

"James, please!" Q fisted his hands in the sheets and pressed his aching erection against James' hip. "Please, fuck, what more do you want? I'm fucking horny, I..."

"Fine."

Q shut up. His brain couldn't catch up with the words.

"Fine," James repeated. "Jerk off. Nice and slow. Make me a show."

Q happily sighed and stretched on his back. He palmed his dick and moaned when the first strong wave went through his body. He stretched his legs and let himself be vocal, flinging his head back, torturing himself with slow strokes.

"Fuck yeah!" he whimpered. "Please, may I go quicker?"

"Yes."

His hand sped up and his moans got louder. In just a couple of seconds he felt the orgasm build up.

"May I come?!"

No answer.

"Fuck, PLEASE, may I come?!"

"Yes."

Q shouted and came so hard his spunk reached his chin.

When it was over and the waves of pleasure left his body, he opened his eyes and looked at his... client.

"Well. That was one good wank."

In fact, probably the best of his life, but that he will keep to himself.

"I know," said James, then moved to him, hesitated, made his mind, moved again and kissed him.

Q already got used to this. At first it was strangely intimate, something he's really never done with a client, because he actually HAD a life beside this, and it was the majority of his life and he actually wanted to have sex with partners outside this personality. But James took it without asking and somehow, Q didn't mind. So what the hell. If it keeps him in warmth and safety, let it be.

"If you want to just go, it's up on you," James said. Q nodded. He should. This is still a job. "I'll give you the money on the way out."

Then he stood up and went to the bathroom. Again, Q debated using the shower, but decided, as the other night, to just get dressed, take the money and go out.

It was nine in the morning when he was leaving James' apartment, fully clothed and wiped from semen and sweat. James handed him a bill at his way out.

"Is fifty a night acceptable for you?" he asked. Q hesitated, but then nodded. What the hell. He never earns much more than that a night anyway and this night he can pay from his personal account. That should be no problem. He still gets paid for his ACTUAL job.

So he leaves the building and is quite excited, because now he needs to eat and maybe nap and then meet his pimp for a while and he'll be back. That should NOT be the main highlight of his existence.


	4. Chapter 4

Sex with James was great. Mornings were sunny and lazy and sometimes Q felt like he was in his old life, with a new boyfriend that is still in love with him. Just until it all breaks and James gets up, gives him his money and leaves for the bathroom.

Then Q leaves and comes back in the night. And he is happy to. It makes him question his sanity. He could have developed a Stockholm syndrome. Yupiii. A year ago he was the one helping people in his situation.

James loved him. He had clients attached to him before, men and even women that wanted to buy him, but he never wanted them back. James, though... he was more. He showed him his love in a way that wasn't pushing - in fact, he never TRIED to show it. He hid behind cockiness and money, but he looked at him in a way... it made Q's breath catch and his heart ache. Eyes should not contain so much feeling. Not eyes as blue as these.

James was in the kitchen, eating his breakfast. Q stood in front of the shower and for the world couldn't decide if he wants to go in. What would it mean? Well, yes, it's just a shower, but the fact that he never used it before would mean something CHANGED. Would James notice? Would he make anything of it? Oh, fuck, he thought too much.

He took the shower. When he came out, he felt so much better - clean, with damp hair and fresh as he never was in this flat. He dressed and went into the kitchen.

James sat behind his bar table, eating eggs and bacon, looking... no, Q, just don't. Looking normal. Nothing beautiful or handsome or fucking attractive, just... normal. James-y.

He stood in front of him until James looked up.

"Your money is on the counter as always," he said and got back to eating. Q didn't move. James looked up again.

"Could I... maybe... take you on that offer...?" Q asked.

"Offer?"

"From... the first morning."

It took James a moment to remember. Then he smiled, amused, and leaned back in his chair.

"If you can cook for yourself."

Q smiled and went to the cooker. He had his plate full in ten minutes. Then he sat opposite to James, who was, by then, just drinking his coffee. He ate and felt strangely comfortable. 

James watched him with interested look on his face. He had a whore eating his food. And he didn't mind. That was new.

Q loved him. He could see it in every look and every move, and especially, in every word. So, mission accomplished. Good. Because that's all he wanted, for the sake of the mission, of course - to gain his trust and affection. So... it justifies how... pleased he is. That he fooled a simple whore. That this boy loves him. Naively and blindly.

And now, he was showering in his flat and sharing his breakfast. The first morning, he wanted to make himself look like a good guy. It wouldn't really mean anything. But now, the domesticity left an aftertaste and he didn't even know if he liked it.

Every night they spent together was intense. Q was the best whore he ever slept with and it was ONLY because of his abilities. He was NOT emotionally involved. Q was because he tricked him into it. But James was NOT.

So he told himself at least three times an hour.

Q started to dress in clothes that made him seem older and James wondered if that was intentional or this was the real Q - distemper-ish tee shirts and jeans, flannel shirts and brown boots. He looked good. Adult. Not like a whore.

When Q left, he decided to go to the gym, because... well, now he had someone to impress with his body. For the mission, of course.

 

It was two weeks. James' budget narrowed so much he had a serious reason to believe he won't be able to pay Q anymore. He had to do something - either let him go and make up some story that would keep Q loyal to him, or somehow make him stay without the money. Well, good luck with that. He may be in love with him, but not suicidal. And James had to keep him INSIDE Serenity. If he can't pay his pimp, he is no use.

The clock was showing two in the morning and they were both up. They never touched after sex, always lay separately, although they both wanted to curl against the other one.

"Q."

Q looked at James, but he was watching the ceiling.

"Q," James said again, thoughtfully. "Just Q."

"Just Q," he agreed.

"What does it stand for?"

Q was silent for a long while. People asked him before. What is your real name? I want to say it when I fuck you. I want to know who you are. Why Q? Who gave you that name? Uncountable, meaningless questions. They didn't really care. But James did.

"Nothing," he said. "It's just a false identity. They just give you a letter or a number. So you don't matter."

James looked at him and his eyes were said. Or maybe just tired.  
"You matter," he said.

"James?" Q asked in a wave of affection. "Why do you keep paying me?"

Yes. Sad. They were sad.

"Go to sleep, Q."

Q gave up and just curled on his side away from James. He couldn't stand facing him. It was just too much.

James waited for several minutes and when he thought the boy was fast asleep, he hugged him from behind and fell asleep.

 

When Q woke up, James wasn't there, but he could remember his warmth throughout the night. He got up and went to the shower. James wasn't there so he assumed he's eating again, so early. He washed, dressed and went to look for him.

As expected, James sat behind his desk with a plate with a half eaten toast - and another full plate where Q could sit. So he sat down and ate his portion without words.

He could feel the tension in the room. If they had a real relationship, they'd be talking it through right now. But they were not. They were a whore and his client and Q wanted to shout his lungs out because he wasn't a fucking slut! And the reasons why he shouldn't do it were disappearing with every night they spent together.

"You could..." started James. Q looked at him with a question and a little hope in his eyes.

"You could stay here," James said. Q's breath hitched.

"I..." he coughed and tried it again. "I don' have anything here. A brush, for example. Some clothes."

James took a second to comprehend and then quickly backed off. "Yeah, right. Sorry."

Q tried to eat, but the toast turned to ash in his mouth. He stood up, took the money and awkwardly waved in James' direction. When he was just a few steps from the door, James called after him.

"I've got another one!"

Q turned.

"Another brush. A new one," James took a deep intake of breath. "Stay."

And Q nodded. Because hell, he really wanted to.

James stood up, crossed the distance between them and kissed him hungrily. Like he was holding himself back this whole time. Q felt his knees go weak. What the fuck did he get himself into? What will he do here? Beside fuck this guy senseless? Well, what does he do at home? What does James do when he's alone? He has to have a job. Or is he just naturally rich? Like he is naturally blond?

When they parted, James kept holding him like a damsel in distress.

"We can stay in and just... I don' know, watch telly. But I want you here."

Then Q remembered that it is naturally Sunday.

 

James gave him a new brush still in the plastic cover and told him he can find some of his clothes in his closet. Q told him that he will need it just in a few minutes. After that rough sex they're going to have.

In two hours, after fooling around on the couch, James left to a Chinese place near his building for some take away. Q suspected him from testing his new guest. He would do the same. So he went to the bedroom and looked into his closet for some clothes.

He didn't want to sweat all over James' shirts since he didn't know if he didn't need them for work, so he started to examine the pile at the bottom of the closet. Some undershirts, that could work, out of season clothes and...

He frowned when his fingers found a very familiar shape and material. He pulled out a double holster. He quickly drew the clothes aside and found a case with a Walter PPK inside, with a magazine full of bullets. There had to be another one somewhere, and another bullets. Q was partially surprised and partially disgusted by the carelessness of his new lover, because he had the bullets not just NEAR the gun, but actually INSIDE it, what was not just stupid, but also illegal. Well, he was hiring a whore, so he wasn't very saint, but still. This was just stupid. Was James awaiting an attack every second? Was THAT why he was rich? Was he a dealer or something?

But no, he wasn't THAT rich. Just able to afford a nice apartment and a whore every night. So what was it, then? Was this just for defence? A very aggressive, quick defence?

He had to move on. James will be here any minute. He tucked the holster and gun back where it was, piled the clothes over it and took the first tee shirt he found along with boxers and sweat pants. He dressed and went to the living room to watch the TV like nothing happened.

Not long after the door opened and James walked in with a carry bag full of little boxes. When he saw Q, his mouth quirked into a cocky smirk. He lay the bag on a cupboard near the door and moved to Q who stood up to invite him.

"You look bloody sexy in my clothes," James said appreciatively, hooked his fingers behind the waistband of Q's sweat pants and looked at his boxers. "You can't even know how fucking much this turns me on. If I wasn't so hungry I'd show you. Let's eat."

Their day went like this - domestic and nice. Until Q had to leave for his nightly meeting with Tent. He left around ten.

And he didn't come back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. I had a good day. Thought of a script to a film and got a new plot twist for this little story. Why not. I think we're in... like, half? Maybe even further.
> 
> Dedicated to Claudia! Because I know how much you wanted them to be in love.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, just a small chapter today. I hope it's enjoyable enough to satisfy you :* I guess I'll be ending it in... three chapters? Maybe four. This is a sweet story, so only a liiittle bit of angst will be added, something a bit more serious that this chapter is.

Q couldn't sit calm for a second. He paced around his cell... well, cell, he wasn't the only one there and THAT was the problem. The holding cell he was in was full of people like him, so he was unable to let his holders know that he was NOT like them. He was the fucking police man here. Fuck.

He had to let his colleagues know so they could let him out and he can... go to James. But he couldn't reach any officer that would listen to him. He just wanted to talk to someone or at least make a call, but these guys were dicks. There was not much he could do without a call. Not much at all.

"Officer!" he called after another uniformed man that passed the bars of their cell. The man stopped and looked at him with contempt. "I need to make a call. contempt. "I need to make a call. It's my right as a..."

"Your right is to shut up and SIT at the bench where all of your friends sit," the man barked at him and continued his walk. Q, frustrated, fell on the bench and hid his head in palms.

"You should go to sleep," an older, terribly smelling man sitting next to him advised. Q hummed agreement but thought only about the best way to get out.

He had to sleep there, anyway. He was dead tired and knew that police won't help him in this state - they must have hated all their night shifts as much as he used to. And they thought he's a slut. Thaaaat's a good way to start a conversation with a police man: "I am police!" "Yeah, you do role play, too, heh?"

So he stayed there for the night. When he woke up, most of his cell-mates were gone and new ones were trying to steal all he had. Fortunately, he was after his meeting with Serenity members, so he had no money on him. Unfortunately, if he didn't have to dress for the occasion, he probably wouldn't be arrested in the first place. He had to visit his flat first to dress into something more slutty so he didn't have to explain himself. Then a police car stopped him at his way home - to change again and run to James' - and he matched a description they had of him.

The minute he woke up he went looking for new officers, some with a bit of understanding in their veins. He found one that let him make a call.

He called Danny. If he called his superior, that fucker would let him rot there for another few hours just because he wasn't his prior problem and he couldn't wait any longer. Danny got him out in an hour. It was already afternoon when he tasted the air for the first time.

He had to go home, have a shower, brush his teeth and change. He took James' clothes and called a cab. It was two in the afternoon when the cabbier drove him a few buildings away from the one where James lived. When he walked into the building and took the lift, that was the first time he actually thought about what he's going to say.

I was arrested. Yes, a beautiful sentence to say to someone who's letting you stay at his flat. But James knew he was a whore, so he shouldn't be that surprised. What doesn't mean he won't realize WHAT Q is and how he feels about it. Yes, he loved him. He paid him for every night he stayed in his bed at essentially picked him off the street, but this was different. I went for jail because I let people fuck me for money and that's the only reason I'm with you. It doesn't matter that he's NOT.

He was standing in front of James' door. He had to knock, he knew that - who knows what James thinks about him. Maybe he believes that he actually stole something from him when he went for the take away, and just waited for a moment to leave safely. Maybe he just thought Q didn't want him anymore. And Q HAD to prove him wrong, that he's still here, still wants him, still... loves him.

Yes, he loved him. That's the only explanation he had for this undying WANT that he had, this need to reassure a client that he's not a whore, that he is someone absolutely different...

He's going to tell him. 

NO! No, he can't, the man has a gun in his closet, he for sure does NOT like police men. He can't. But then, there's another option. He could leave. Right now, when he is not that attached. He wasn't really doing anything in these past few days and he PROMISED himself he's gonna end it up soon. He should do his job. Not endulge.

But... he was in jail. Someone surely saw him and reported to Tent, so he has few days off anyway. And he could very well spend them here, with James. And not charge him anything.

Before he could think of the fact that he has no explanation for how he's been able to get out of the prison so soon, he was ringing the bell. There was a moment of silence and then he heard soft steps and the door opened.

When James opened the door and saw Q standing there, a set of emotions ran through his body. First, relief that he sees him. Immediately after that came anger, followed by confusion and need for an explanation. Then he remembered he's not supposed to be himself but this fool in love, but it was hard to slip into that role. And a strong urge was forcing him to either pull that boy to himself and kiss him hard or slam him against the nearest surface and intimidate him like a child for not obeying his parent. He forced himself under control and kept his expression cold.

"Where have you been?" he asked. Q winced.

"I was... in jail," he said sheepishly. That surprised James. The boy was likely to be arrested, yes, but he never thought of that possibility.

"How did you get out?" he asked. He could see Q's eyes lit up as he tried to find an answer.

"I have someone there," he said after a moment. "He's a... client. He got me out."

"And now what?" James leaned against the doorframe. He shouldn't be interrogating him in the hallway, but he had to think straight and this was a neutral ground.

"I... I thought... you'd maybe want me back?" Q became nervous and maybe a bit scared. He didn't want to go away and James really didn't look like he wanted to invite him into his home again. This was a mistake. He should have just left when he had the chance. "It wouldn't be so strange if I didn't go on any meeting for a few days... and I could... I could stay. For free."

James blinked a few times.

"You want to stay?" he asked. Q lowered his head and looked at his shoes. This was a VERY bad idea. He can't show how much he wants to be here... but he just couldn't bring himself to say anything to do the opposite. So he just stood there, ashamed to live.

Suddenly a hand appeared in his field of sight, fingers gripped his shirt collar and James pulled him close so he could kiss him. That filled Q's stomach with a confused warmth that was quickly spreading through his intestines.

"Of course you can stay," James told him between the kisses. "But don't ever scare me like that. I was fucking CRAZY when you didn't come home at night."

And only God and James knew that the statement was half true.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO sorry I wasn't adding anything, but I had a very busy couple of days - just started my university, which meant for me moving to England, starting a new life, trying to survive this food, music in stores and traffic... sorry, not to offend anyone, everything else is just GREAT and I'm loving it. I will get used to the traffic eventually. And cook for myself. In the meantime, I will enjoy the biggest library in England, the Hive, and write for you when I don't have to write for school. :)

Guns. What were those guns doing in that closet? What the fuck...

James didn't do ANYTHING for living, as far as Q could tell. He was just sitting in his apartment, running around in his jogging suit, eating, watching the tele and, well, fucking Q. Although... not really that much now, when they had the whole days for each other. In fact, they mostly stayed snuggled at the couch or bed or in the kitchen, acting like a real couple. Q liked it. But they didn't talk. That was the one thing that Q thought differed them from couples - from lovers. They never shared anything from their life. They talked about what are they going to eat and when they'll have sex, but that was about all. A little reminder that this was still just a theatre. Maybe James just wanted the "girlfriend experience."

After two days Q finally admitted to himself that he loves James.

It was stupid, really, and he felt like a teenager, because he only spent last few days with him, he didn't even know him, not really, and it just left him... confused. What should he do? What shouldn't he do? If it's a returned feeling, maybe they could talk a bit more... but what about? About those guns? About Q's profession? Any point of view he tried was only showing him a disaster. This can't end well.

"Michael Broadshaw," he said one evening, lying next to James, thinking about the inevitability of time. Time goes forward, never stopping, never waiting for you to catch up. This will all continue and get bigger like a snowball spinning down the hill. Until it breaks against a rock.

"What?" James turned his head and looked at him.

"Michael Broadshaw. That's my name."

James blinked few times, taken by surprise.

"Why are you telling me your name? Now?"

That bastard knew the answer. Q refused to say anything, just snuggled close to him. He knew this is one of the biggest mistakes he ever made, but something in him wanted this life to end and was too tired or maybe just lazy that he didn't want to go back to work. Maybe if he blows his cover... maybe he could just stay like this, stay with James in his apartment, never go out, hid from the world and from himself. Because he felt that urge to serve and protect to leave him, slowly, but very passionately. He was done.

 

 

Q had to leave for his "busyness meeting", eventually. Bond sat behind his desk, stared at his computer and thought.

He should report him. He has his name. He should definitely report him. But... something was stopping him. Not something, a LOTS of things. Everything.

He opened the laptop and found the pages that only police men from his department could access. He typed the name. It took him a few tries, but he finally found the person that looked like Q -younger and somehow very different, but it was him. He clicked on his name.

Michael Broadshaw, thirty two, very basic information about his education, background... police history. Not crime history. Police history.

Fuck.

 

 

Q came back around midnight. The meeting was rough, as every time he was "arrested", but it didn bother him that much anymore, since he had James to come to. He opened the door and got hit.

It was just a light blow, but it surprised him. Someone attacked him and he had about half a second to decide what to do, and he decided to fight back. He blocked the next blow and attacked, revealing the attacker as James. That surprised him even more, but he held his stance. The fight was quick and brutal - James was a strong man and as he just found out, trained, too. He went for easy targets, though - no pressure points, nothing fatal, just painful and quite pointless. After a minute, Q's left side hurt like hell, his right hand was almost disabled, his head buzzed and there was some blood running down his nose. James limped, his right cheek was starting to colour red, but otherwise he looked like he could take him down any minute. But Q could defend himself.

He stroke a filthy move and hit James's throat. James took a step back and bent a few centimetres, trying to catch his breath. Q stepped back, too, and raised both hands as to be ready.

"What the fuck?!" he asked. James coughed and rubbed his throat.

"So," he looked at him. He barely spoke. "You're not bad. For a whore."

Q couldn't find any words, so he just repeated: "What the fuck?!"

James straightened. "I talked to Gareth Mallory."

Q's life froze for a moment. James talked to... his boss. That idiot that made him do this mission. What did that... what did that mean? Did he know? Would Mallory tell him? Why would he? But if there was no connection... his head started to hurt. He stood straight.

"How..." he started, but then dismissed the question. "I don't..." and then he just gave up. "What the fuck?"

"It's true what they say about policemen, isn't it," James smirked. "I should be ashamed to be one."

Q blinked a few times. "What?"

"...the fuck?" James finished. "Yes, very surprising. On both sides, trust me. You're a pretty policeman."

"You're a... you're fucking police?!" Q started to understand.

"Undercover on a mission. Serenity. I understand that's the same for you."

"Yeah!" Q almost laughed. "Yeah, the same. Absolutely same. I fuck for money, I sell myself every - night, but we do THE SAME," the anger building in him was as strong as it should have been for the whole time he was undercover. He couldn't believe James was doing the same operation, but had such a GREAT role.

"Q," James tried to get closer to him. "Michael."

"Don't call me that!" Q snapped. "You think we do the same thing?! You think... I was the one that had to go out there and... and blow filthy old guys, I was the one with the ripped arse at least once a month, I had to..."

"I know, I know!" James tried to comfort him, but Q was too mad. "Q, I am sorry! I really, really am."

Q's rage started to leave him, but he still felt a strong, bitter anger. He shed James' tries to touch him.

"Q," James took his hand by force. "Just listen to me. I am sorry. We both had to do things we didn't like and I am deeply, deeply sorry that your life... I am sorry."

Q looked into his beautiful eyes and after a few seconds of considering, he nodded. James stepped close to him and hugged him.

"It's over," he said. "I will take care of it. You don't need to go back."

"No," Q tried to push him away. "I'm not weak."

"I'm not saying you're weak. But I can do it without you, you don't have to sell yourself anymore."

"And throw a year of my life away?" he finally pushed him out of his personal space. "No. I won' live with the knowledge that all of that was worthless. If you want to help me, that's great, but I'm not a damsel in distress. So... it was great being fucked by you, I guess this ends our contract."

A hurt expression flew over James' face.

"Good to know it was FUN," he said venomously.

"And wasn't it? You pretending you're in love with me... me - pretending I'm in love with you."

James guarded himself and his eyes hardened. "If that's all that was for you. Very good to know. Don't waste any time, then. Go."

Q nodded sternly and turned to the door.

"Who will you fuck now?" James' words made him turn back. He had his last chance to save the day. He could see James didn't want him to leave.

"Anyone who pays," he said instead. "Just like with you."

And he left. Because men are stupid.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Juchuuu, another chapter! Almost the ending. Who is excited? I certainly am. I've been pendulating between writing and reading and I should REALLY read, the library in this city is enormous and I already borrowed ten books and I can only have them for like three weeks. I read the Psychopath test that was advised to me, so maybe sometimes in the future my Bond will be a bit more psychopathic :D like that gets :D

Q couldn't believe his luck. The bullet missed everything he deared about his body, and a beautiful, clean shot went through his side without damaging any vital organs, bones, anything but clear tissue. Did it hurt? Like hell. But he would heal. Everything's gonna be fine.

Really everything – his life will be as before this nightmare started. They just distroyed an organization with a huge impact on this country, and his mission ended. No more Serenity. No more selling his body. The feeling it brought him was surreal.

So now, as soon as he gets out of the hospital, he can go back to his old job – a policeman. Just like that. A snap of fingers and everything will be great.

But it won't be. He hated to admit it, but no, this was not the end. He wasn't done. Some things were too painful to just forget. A whole year lost at the hands of sexual deviants, every month testing himself if he didn't get any STD, never seeing his family or friends, any support... until James, that is. Although... could he call James a support? He definitely helped him for a few days. Maybe. Well, he had a home to come to, and someone to share a bed not just because of sex, someone he didn't want money from, someone... that he could imagine a life with. He hated that.

Because now he didn't get any of that, did he? Of his own stupidity. And he just couldn't look into that man's eyes and... survive the shame. It was easier to be a whore when he was a whore. Being a man with a respectful job and, real life, being HIM – that just didn't fit what he played while being with James. It wasn't him.

And James didn't really love him, now he knew that. He supposed it was just a big act, the whole Good guy James thing. Who knows who James really was... Q would give anything to find out. And that was another thing – his new name stuck with him. It was strange, really – he shouldn't cling to this identity, and everything about that short life he despised, but somehow the biggest part in it – he himself - wasn't so disgusting. Maybe somewhere deep inside he actually liked his slutty identity. Like with James. He would like to do some stuff to James. Or let James do some stuff to him...

The door to his room opened and Danny stepped inside, carrying a tray with hospital food. Q became aware of his surroundings once again – white walls, uncomfortable bed, an annoying beeping of an EKG machine near his head. A sharp, breath taking pain in his left side, stomach and ribs. Every breath hurt. The sounds of nurses shouting in the hall.

Danny put the tray in front of Q and helped him into a more sitting position, saying something about how hard it was to get it from the nurse, but he wanted to visit and... Q couldn't keep his attention on one thing. His nerves were shouting at him to stop breathing for a moment and maybe more, and the mantra of MORE MORPHIUM was ceasing to make any sense after time.

„I met someone,“ Danny said , forcedly cheerful.

„You're married,“ Q said with painfully.

„Not met met, you idiot. I met him in the hall. He's here for you.“

Q's heart sped up – literally, the beeping quickened.

„What?“ he asked, unable to produce a good question.

„He says he wants to see you to make sure you're OK. I told him I can ask...“

„Don't you bloody dare.“

Danny was surprised by Q's tone. He was pale and his heart rate could not be more telling.

„Well, I just thought... you could speak to the man. He really looked concerned...“

„Do you see that?“ Q asked and pointed at the heart monitor with the hand on his uninjured site. „Let him in and I fucking die.“

Danny straightened. „Did he hurt you? Should I beat the crap out of him?“

Q rubbed his forehead.

„No. No, just... just get him out. I'm not ready... I'll talk to him. Maybe. If I feel better. Not now, definitely not now.“

 

James liked hospitals. It was odd – no one really LIKED hospitals, not even people who worked there, but he always saw there something he couldn't see anywhere else – people actually caring for someone else. If you went to the hospital to visit someone, your thoughts always travelled between the people you saw there. You don't think of yourself amongst all the sick and dying. James thought that was too rare to be unnoticed. He liked hospitals.

But right now, he only felt concern.

The guy – Daniel, he recalled – went out of Q's room and closed the door behind himself. That was a clear sign for James, but he waited for him anyway, engaging in another conversation. He knew Q would be hard to talk to. It was weird, actually – he knew him, but he didn't know HIM, he just guessed, from the conversation they had and from what he found out about him, guessed his real personality. But he would like getting to know this new man.

„Eeeeh...“ Daniel scratched the back of his head. „Yeah, sorry, mate, but he's really tired. Maybe later.“

„He doesn't want to see me,“ James corrected. Daniel winced.

„Look, I don't know who you are or what you are to him, but... well, sorry. He doesn't. But he's in pain and stubborn. Maybe if you talk to me, I could see what I can do...“

„That's fine,“ James cut him off. „I'll try again.“

He left Daniel, awkwardly standing there, in the middle of the busy hall.

 

James tried again a few times. The first time, Danny was there again, so the situation pretty much repeated. The second time, they had his description. Third is the charm, so he tried it in the night.

It was harder to get in after closing hours, of course. Anyone who would see him would just kick him, very politey, out. But he was more than just a guy breaking into a closed facility, he was a former soldier. It went quite smooth and now he was sitting by Q's bed, looking at his sleeping face.

He was handsome. Beautiful, although they taught him in school, many years ago, that beautiful only applies to a woman. But Q was, to him, absolutely breathtaking. He had a stubble. He never saw a stubble on him. Black and a bit uneven, but very attractive. And his nose was funny. James noticed before how it moves when he talks, and he longed to see it again. His hair was longer and messier, James wanted to touch it so badly... and his lips... he remembered his tongue, he remembered his teeth, the warmth of his body...

It was strange, that he never appreciated those things so much and now he longed for them. It was nice kissing Q, he recalled, the heat of the moment and all that, but he couldn't understand why would he want it so much now. He knew it's going to be just OK when – if – he kisses Q again. Still, he wanted to more than anything.

He wondered if Q will sleep the whole night. Maybe. He could sleep, too. His nights weren't ery calm, lately. It wouldn't be very comfortable in a hospital chair, but something was telling him it would be peaceful.

The beeping he already stopped realising sped up and Q's eyes opened. He looked around the room as in a dream, like he just wanted to turn and go to sleep again, if he could move that much, but when his eyes stopped on James, his heart rate went up. His eyes woke up and he tried to bolster up on his elbow, but a sharp pain reminded him of his condition, so he gave up.

„Hi,“ James said. Q moaned.

„What are you doing here?“ he asked.

„Wanted to see you.“

Q sighed. „You really don't get the message, do you?“

„Oh, I get the message. I just think it's a stupid message and that the deciding process should involve me. As one of the two people that this is about.“

„So this is about us both?“ Q raised his eyebrows. „Not about me being shot and lying in a hospital?“

„Oh, bu-hu, everything's about you. You're always the on in the worse situation. Just for your information, I had a very nice year, too. Stop acting like a victim, you're a policeman.“

He leaned to him and braced his elbows on knees. „Look. I know it's weird for you, believe me, it's weird for us both. But I like you and I think you like me.“

Q rubbed his eyes. „No. You don't like me. You like who I was pretending to be. And I don't like who you were. We were both just playing the other one into thinking we're in love...“

„Yeah, we were. And I didn't like Q. I didn't like anything about the whore, but I liked him anyway.“

Q was silent for a while.

„Yes. Yes, I liked you, too, kind of. I guess.“

„So, what about we establish some deal, hm?“ James smiled. „Like you will let me visit you?“

Q nodded.

„I won't be a great company.“

„Yes you will be. I want to get to know you.“


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's done, it's done, it's dooooooone! I really loved writing for you, guys! Hope you will stay with me and my other projects :) I will be probably spending some time on Malex stories, and SHOULD finish that 00Q one that awaits me, the one no one likes :D but I like it. I like angst and masochists and torturing Q with feelings. I am a terrible person.  
> So, please leave a comment and kudos now, because to this story, you will never get another chance. I mean, I am greedy and want some comments. Now. Thanks.

„What is your real name?“ Q asked the second day they spent together at the hospital.

„James Bond.“

„That's your cover.“

„And my real name.“

Q frowned. „You used your real name as your cover name? What are you, an idiot?“

James raised one corner of his lips into a little smile. „The evidence talks for itself. Still, I don't have my side pierced with a nine millimetre bullet.“

„Fuck off.“

James laughed. These last days were relaxed and pleasant. They spent about two hours talking, then James left and they thought about each other for the rest of the day. Until he came again and they could talk some more. This time, when he was leaving, he bent down and kissed him. When he stood again, Q's hand followed him and pulled him back. They kissed again and James had to sit down by him on the bed. Q hissed, but none of them tried to release the pressure on his injured side.

Finally, they parted and James couldn't bring himself to leave.

„You can stay,“ Q said weakly.

„I could,“ James agreed silently.

He stayed. He slept squeezed against Q's healthy side, almost falling out of the bed so he wouldn't make Q and his pain uncomfortable, with one hand above their heads and the second touching Q's leg. Of course, first he had to hide so the nurse wouldn't just throw him away, but it was worth it. He barely slept that night.

 

 

Q spent another week in the hospital and then left for home. Bond had to sort out something in his office, so he leaved him, murmuring something about „that bitch M“. He didn't show up for two weeks. When he finally knocked on Q's door, there was only a scar as an evidence of his short life left on his side.

He opened the door and faced the cold stare of his... well, probably partner. No, not cold, warm in fact, as warm as an ice cube can be.

„Hi,“ he said. James smiled with that crooked way of his.

„Hi,“ he replayed. „Did you miss me?“

„You know what?“ he reached with his hand and pulled at the front of James' shirt. „You did.“

He was smiling the whole time he lead him to his bedroom, going backwards by memory. James raised the lem of Q's tee shirt and saw the pink scar.

„Can I slam you to the bed and fuck into you until you see stars?“ he asked and Q shuddered.

„You can do that and more. So I really hope you will.“

James looked like he took the challenge – his eyebrows shot up and in the next second, Q fell onto the mattress. James climbed on top of him and began to undress himself. Q lay back and enjoyed the view. Under the shirt, James had nothing, just his hard muscles and skin that only took a little pressure and turned red. Q touched him and watched the goosebumps that raised the little hairs on his chest. Then he dragged the all the way to his trousers and undid the fly.

„I thought you wanted me to fuck you hard,“ James growled. „This looks more like a tender „making love“.“

„Say those word again and you can let those trousers on,“ Q said. In that instant, James grabbed the lem of his tee shirt and pulled hard, undressing him in one second, Q's body going up and down under those strong hands. James assaulted his mouth, stealing his breath from him, and pulling his trousers down. In a few seconds, the were both naked and their already hard cocks touched for the first time in more than a month. They both hummed appreciatively.

„Where's the lube?“ James growled into Q's mouth. He just pointed at the night stand and James straightened so he could fish it out. He quickly poured some on his fingers and attacked Q's opening.

„Fuck, James, I'm not a whore anymore!“ Q scowled, wincing. „I'm tight!“

„Oh, yes, you are,“ James grinned. „I thought you want it rough.“

„I want to sit tomorrow.“

James slowed down a bit, tendered his movements. He didn't take long, though. Q never really used to the pressure in his arse and James was already adding another finger, stretching him too quickly for his liking. But Q liked it and James knew it. He understood it after they talked about sex for a while, when he was still in the hospital. It made sense. If you wanted to be a policeman, you either liked pain or wanted to cause it.

Suddenly Q pushed him away and kneeled.

„Sit,“ he ordered James. Then he climbed into his embrace. They kissed again, unable to resist the closeness. Then Q reached down and positioned James' cock so he could just sit on it.

They both growled, Q louder than James. He begun moving in a slow tempo, wincing and hissing, but never slowing down. James watched him with a transfixed admiration in his eyes, his black locks, bouncing around his head, his eyes, closed lightly, his lips, opened and wet. Q rode him, now more quickly, but not quiet quick enough. He was close to his orgasm – already, after just something around three minutes, but this was not the time to be ashamed. Q sensed his edge and now was grinning, his little victory over the man – he had his orgasm in his power. At least that's what he thought.

At once, James grabbed him, turned and slammed into the mattress, face down. Q yelped, and then he growled deeply when James slipped into him again, this time on his own conditions. He fucked him hard and quick, seeking his own release, and when it came, when he came, it was him who saw the stars.

He collapsed next to Q and the younger man gave him a nasty look. He propped himself up on his almost healed side and palmed his cock.

„Don't,“ said James. Q looked at him, at the little sparks in his sleepy eyes, and he remembered their beginnings.

„Fuck you,“ he said and jerked himself off. James watched him and he liked it better now – without the show. Just Q. Michael.

„We should do this more often,“ he said then and Q laughed.

„Yes, definitely. What you say, a hundred a night?“

 

 

They talked about their work. Neither of them liked it. Neither of them wanted to do it. James was the first one that came with an idea of a free life, without the police, just the two of them, doing little jobs – guarding, bodyguarding, making do. Everything would be better without the police. And, they had each other. Maybe the money will be tight, but who needs money? For money, they lost a year of their life. Now they could enjoy it.

So Q agreed. James moved in. The world was sunny.

 

 

EPILOGUE

James sat by the table, sipping his coffee, looking for the love of God like... well, God, in his bespoke suit, clean shaved and with those beautiful eyes shinning with excitement. Q, on the other hand, looked like a bunch of nerves. He, also in a suit and with his hair brushed and tied in a short ponytail, was marching through the kitchen, there and back and there, his hands deeply in his trouser pockets. James forbade him to drink coffee or tea, because he was already full of energy.

„Michael, sit down, for the love of God,“ he asked him, amused.

„It's a bad idea, James, we're not suited for this kind of... of...“

„Commitment?“ James asked, but he knew that wasn't what Q was trying to say.

„No, of course not! But THIS way? That's just... just...“

„Overwhelming,“ James finished. „And even more so if you spend the reminding time clomping a whole into the floor. Just sit down, eat something and calm down.“

Q sighed, but sat down behind the table.

„No, not there,“ James turned a bit so he was in the open space, not tugged under the table, and beckoned his partner over. Q's mind flew over the fact that their suits will show reference of any physical contact, and moved to James' lab.

James kissed him, tenderly and sweetly.

„We're going to get married,“ he said. Q could see the happiness in his eyes.

„Yes,“ he agreed, and he could feel his lips stretching into a stupid smile. „We're going to get married.“

They sat there like that, breathing in each other's air, touching their faces like they didn't already know every wrinkle. They're going to get married. Who would ever think.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant it with those comments.


End file.
